Thieves and Kittens
by Jem Kallop
Summary: Marik is moping after he left Bakura in the shadow realm after Battle City, and Ishizu has had enough of it. She casts a strange spell with some unexpectedly fluffy results. Thiefshipping oneshot.


**So I have some kitten thiefshipping fluffiness for you all. It was inspired by this animation: my wiilz . deviantart (.com) /art/Kitty-416895654 (take out brackets and spaces) made by my wonderful friend FanGirl16. You should all go and look at it, it's adorable! I do hope you enjoy this fluffy oneshot.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, Kazuki Takahashi does.**

**Oh, and Ishizu randomly has magical powers because I said so. Hehe. Hope you enjoy! - Jem**

Marik lay on his bed, an unsettled sigh escaping his lips. His expression was slightly disgruntled, brows drawn low over his closed eyes, hands folded behind his head as he sprawled fully-clothed on top of his sheets. Another day spent indoors, and still he was unable to shake off his black mood.

A soft knock at his door stirred him. Marik groaned, not bothering to open his eyes as he snapped out a curt response: "Enter."

A swish of familiar fabric met his ears, accompanied by a soft voice. "Marik, there's food for you downstairs."

"Just bring it up here, sister." Marik still kept his eyes firmly shut, his body flat and unmoving. He preferred to be lost in the darkness behind his lids, watching the star-like patterns shoot across his skull. It was better than reality.

A low sigh reached his ears. "No, Marik." A rustle of fabric and a small depression informed him that she had seated himself, uninvited, on the end of his bed. "It's time you came downstairs."

Marik heaved a heavy sigh. "I'm not in the mood for one of your lectures, Ishizu."

"I don't care." Her voice sounded surprisingly stern. A cool hand brushed Marik's forehead, hair falling against his skin. Her breath blew coolly across Marik's cheek. "Come downstairs."

Marik sighed loudly, finally opening his eyes. He met Ishizu's dark blue gaze straight away, her stern apparel boring straight into him as she leaned over him. She shook her head, stroking his cheek again. "Why do you insist on locking yourself away up here?"

"You know full well why," he muttered sourly, twisting away from her strong expression. His blank eyes regarded the ceiling above him, lips drawn into a thin line.

Ishizu shook her head, looming over him. "I do not. We succeeded, Marik! Your body is solely yours again – your darkness has fled."

A dangerous growl slipped through Marik's lips. He sat up suddenly, his brows furrowed and expression dark as his violet eyes seared into his sister's gaze. The sheets bunched beneath his fingers, fists clenching and tendons snapping with tension in his arms. He spat. "Do _not_ talk about that."

Ishizu sighed. "Brother, however much you feared him, your dark half is gone now."

"I didn't _fear him_," Marik interrupted.

" - So it's only right that you begin to move on now." Ishizu continued as if Marik hadn't spoken. She lifted a hand to gently trace his cheek. "You're free now."

Marik swatted her hand away irritably. He turned away from her, flopping back down on the bed and pointedly turning his back. His black vest had ridden up slightly, the hint of the scars just peeking out under the hem. Ishizu winced a little at the stark reminder of their painful childhood under the ground.

Marik mumbled something into his pillow, the muffled noise too incoherent for Ishizu's hearing. She leaned a little closer, loose black hair falling in a curtain around them both. One of her hands lightly stroked through his blond hair. "What was that, Marik?"

Marik shifted, his head turning just enough to make his words intelligible. "I said, I'm not free now. I'll never be free until I've made it up to him."

"Him?" Ishizu arched a brow. She ran her thoughts back over the events of Battle City, but she couldn't think of anyone her brother would be indebted to. "Marik, who do you mean?"

Marik's eyes closed. His body curled up into a standard foetal position, knees drawn tightly into his chest, arms clasped around them, hugging himself into a small curled-up ball. He looked so tiny on the bed, like when he was a small child and Ishizu used to sing him lullabies to calm him from his nightmares. The memories pulled at her heart.

A name dropped from Marik's lips. "Bakura. I betrayed Bakura."

Ishizu's eyes widened. Bakura? The pale little boy who had been in the company of the Pharaoh's vessel? But he had been injured early on, in a duel – oh, of course, a duel where a darker spirit residing in the Millennium Ring had sided with Marik. A small crease appeared in her brow. "I presume you mean the spirit of the Ring, brother, but why do you feel you betrayed him?"

"Because I did." Marik's voice sounded choked, to Ishizu's amazement. He remained curled tightly on his bed, his eyes tightly shut. "Bakura – the spirit of the Ring – partnered with me. We worked together to fight the Pharaoh, he supported me and did everything I told him."

Ishizu gently continued to stroke his hair, mimicking movements she had performed a million times in their childhood. She let him speak, listening, silently relieved that he was finally talking to her about what had driven him to spend so many days locked in his room.

"There ... is something else he did for me ... that I've never spoken about." Marik's eyes remained tightly shut. "He ... he helped me when I had no one."

"Marik." Ishizu's voice broke a little, her fingers in his hair. "You always had me."

"I didn't." Marik's tone turned hard, his fingers tightening in the material of his tight black trousers. "I got thrown out of my body. I couldn't talk to you or anyone else, but Bakura understood. He fought for me, sister – he fought my dark half, at the risk of his own soul, to try and get me back into my body."

Ishizu's jaw visibly dropped.

Marik didn't notice, continuing his story in a dull, monotonous tone. "We lost, though. The both of us, we got thrown back into the Shadow Realm together, at least until my dark half pulled me back into that duel with the Godsforsaken Pharaoh." Marik's voice turned hard, his hands clenching into fists. "And then, I betrayed him. I gave his Ring to the Pharaoh – his mortal enemy! How can I have done that?"

Ishizu remained silent, struggling to comprehend her brother's words. She stuttered over her words, her fingers stilling in Marik's hair. "You – what – he _fought for you_?"

Marik's lips drew into a thin line. He opened his eyes to meet his sister's gaze, his expression closed once more. He spoke stiffly. "He did."

"But I – " Ishizu shook her head, recovering slowly. She allowed her surprise to show on her face as she looked into her brother's eyes. "I thought he was evil."

"You thought I was evil, too," Marik pointed out with a wry roll of his eyes. "Maybe I still am. I don't know."

Ishizu's expression instantly turned stern. "You are no more evil than I, brother."

"I still betrayed him." Marik's voice was a low whisper, barely audible in the thin air. "The only person who tried to help me, and I betrayed him."

Ishizu's jaw snapped shut. She watched again as her brother closed his eyes, keeping himself tightly curled into a small ball on the edge of the bed. She leaned over, gently brushing the hair back from his forehead to better measure his expressions. Marik hardly ever spoke about his time spent without a body – he snapped at anyone who brought it up, or closed up so much that it was impossible to get even so much as a grunt out of him.

After a few long moments of silence, Ishizu risked speaking again. "So you feel you betrayed this Ring spirit?"

Marik kept silent. His lips pursed, eyes firmly screwed shut again. He rolled a little on the sheets, pointedly turning his back on Ishizu with his brows furrowed deeply.

Ishizu pursed her lips. Her tone was surprisingly curt when she spoke again, her blue eyes stern as she gazed down at the stubborn form of her brother on the bed. She hissed. "Brother, if you're not willing to talk about this then I will have to resort to more drastic measures."

A small growl ripped through Marik's lips. "Oh, please. Like what?"

"You have to meet your demons head-on, Marik." Ishizu stood suddenly, her robe ghosting about her slender form. She glanced down at him, her brows drawn together into a neat frown, her fingers lightly tracing the trail of scars through his shirt. She could feel him instantly stiffen, but continued anyway. "You can't hide away from your mistakes."

"I can't make this one right." Marik mumbled tightly. "Bakura is gone."

A small smile graced Ishizu's lips. "Are you so sure?"

Marik's eyes opened. He twisted, glancing up at her with a quizzical look to his otherwise closed features.

Ishizu smiled mysteriously. "All the souls sent to the Shadow Realm by your dark half were freed, were they not?"

Despite himself, Marik's eyes widened, just a tiny amount. His mouth opened, words tumbling out before he could stop them, his tone unintentionally eager. "Bakura could be free? Still in this world?!"

The smile still played about Ishizu's lips as she gazed down at him.

Marik shot upright in the bed, his hands fisting in the sheets. He drew in a ragged breath, though something in his expression was still closed. "I couldn't talk to him, even if he was, though. He'd probably just kill me as soon as he saw me."

Ishizu's smile widened. Her blue eyes sparkled mischievously down at him. "There is always a way, brother."

Marik shook his head, eyes closing again as he allowed his body to drop back down onto the bed.

Ishizu stayed for another moment, watching him with a bright blue gaze. The cogs were whirring in her mind, the beginnings of an idea forming. She turned to the door. "Try and get some sleep, Marik. I will see you in the morning."

Marik merely swatted a half-hearted hand at her.

The smile didn't leave Ishizu's lips as she exited Marik's bedroom.

...

Marik awoke the next morning after the best night's sleep he had had in a long time.

He stretched out on his sheets, keeping his eyes closed as he revelled in the luxurious warm sensations that always accompanied waking naturally after a good long sleep. A yawn stretched his mouth wide, happiness settling through him.

After a few more contented minutes, Marik opened his eyes sleepily, enjoying lying in his warm bed. He curled up on the pillow, purring contentedly.

Wait ... purring?

Eyes going suddenly wide as his brain clambered its way painfully out of sleep, Marik blinked several times, listening to the purrs rumbling from his own throat. He swallowed, lifting a hand to his mouth, but he froze at what he saw. That wasn't a hand, it was a _paw_. A furry, soft, same-shade-as-his-skin brown paw.

Marik shrieked, but it came out as a harsh meow.

Rocketing upright, Marik landed on all-fours on the top of his bedsheets, staring down. Those were definitely two front paws attached to his front body, and yes, that was most definitely a _tail_ he could feel sticking out above his rear end. He gasped, but it sounded as a sort of pathetic tiny mewl. He mewled again, trying to speak, but all that came out were fruitless meows.

With a low hiss that came out like a pathetic sort of whimper, Marik jumped off his bed and ran towards the full-length mirror that he knew sat pride-of-place beside his wardrobe. He ran straight up to it, eyes wide, and froze at what he saw reflected back at him.

A small brown cat with bright violet eyes and a gold collar blinked in the mirror. It had pointy, fuzzy ears that were currently laid flat against its head, four brown paws, and a long brown tail that currently stood straight up in the air, big and bushy with fright. Marik's jaw dropped, and the cat in the mirror's small mouth fell open too, revealing two rows of sharp, feline teeth.

Marik yowled.

There came a sudden noise from his bedroom door – a _creak_ of the handle turning. Marik's ears flicked up straight away and he jumped, fur standing up on end. The door began to inch open and Marik acted on his first instinct; he dived straight under the bed.

Soft footsteps entered the room. Slender blue slippers appeared in Marik's vision, shoes that he recognised as belonging to his sister, accompanied by the familiar swish of her robes and the tinkling of gold from her bangles. She spoke, her voice soft. "Marik?"

He trembled, staying under the bed. Everything looked bigger from this new perspective; the bed loomed large over his head, the room itself grown to gigantic proportions. Even Ishizu's ankles looked like giant dinner plates.

"Marik." Her voice was gentle, almost a coo. "I know you must be afraid, but come out here for me. I can explain everything."

Marik kept quiet. He was breathing raggedly, still panicked from that impossible reflection in the mirror. There was no way he could be a cat – it was _totally impossible_ – but how else could he explain the purring, the paws, the friggin' _tail..._?!

"Marik." Ishizu sounded a little more stern this time, though her tone remained soft. She crouched, one of her slender arms appearing in Marik's vision as she lightly played with the sheets hanging down from the side of his bed. "You can't have gone far..."

He remained as quiet as he could, bunching his small body into a little furry ball, wide purple eyes watching urgently as Ishizu leaned closer. She lowered her body flat to the ground until her face moved below the bed. Her keen blue eyes pierced through the darkness, much larger than they should have been, peering from between folds of long black hair until she saw him. She smiled. "Marik."

Marik yelped, though again it merely came out as a pathetic mewl. Ishizu laughed brightly and suddenly her hands were extending towards him, plucking him firmly from the dust under the bed and bringing him back out into the daylight. Marik sneezed three times in a row, his expression faintly shocked.

Another silvery laugh left Ishizu's lips as she picked him up, cradling him safely in her arms. Marik's eyes were wide as the world swung dizzyingly around him – he knew he was taller than his sister, yet she was managing to hold him in her arms, and she looked so much _bigger_ than she should do! Her face loomed large over him, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, brother, I must admit that it worked better than I expected."

_What are you talking about?_ All that left Marik's mouth was an extremely indignant meow, much to his frustration.

Ishizu smiled warmly at him, lifting one hand to lightly touch the tip of his nose, making him sneeze yet again. She chuckled. "I told you – you have to face your demons head-on."

_So you turned me into a cat?!_ Marik hung onto her arm, his claws digging into her robe slightly, making her wince. He gazed up at her with shocked violet eyes.

She glanced back down at him, lifting him by the scruff of his neck until he was dangling in front of her face. Marik's paws kicked wildly at the air, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. Ishizu smiled. "Don't worry, brother. This change isn't permanent."

Marik kept staring at her, small frightened whimpers escaping his mouth, much to his disdain. He had never sounded this pathetic in his life. Ishizu's smile softened slightly, her blue eyes still dancing with amusement, as she placed him back in her arms and cradled him to her chest. Marik twisted, yowling impatiently, but she shushed him gently with a scratch to the top of his head. "It's alright. I cast a spell to give you a better form to face your demons – you weren't doing too well on your own, after all."

Marik wanted to complain, but the gentle fingers on the top of his head were making his whole body shake with purrs.

"You will return to your original body once you have come to terms with your past," Ishizu continued. "You have a lot to sort through. You need to realise that Battle City is over, and you can find redemption in life now."

Redemption? Marik twisted in his sister's hold, bright violet eyes blinking up at her. How could he hope to redeem himself? All those lives he had wasted in his search for the Ancient Gods, the ones he had hurt as he strove for the power of the Pharaoh, and Bakura...

Before he could say anything, Ishizu was moving. She strode confidently out of his bedroom, carrying him down the stairs and to the front door despite his struggles and plaintive meows. Ishizu opened the front door and placed Marik down on the doorstep, under the heat of the desert sun, his four paws fumbling as he tried to regain his balance. She crouched, extending one hand towards him and brushing two gentle fingers over the top of his head. "You will be fine, brother. Come back once you have found what you seek." With that, she stood once more and turned back inside the house, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Marik stared, his small body quivering in shock.

The sun beat down above his head – it had to be close to midday by now, definitely not the ideal time to be trapped outside – and the gold collar around his neck felt heavy. His brown fur slicked against him, making him unpleasantly warm. Breathing slightly raggedly and still trying to adjust to the fact that he now had four paws instead of hands and feet, Marik sat back on his haunches and scratched plaintively at the wooden front door, letting loose a heartbreaking meow. There was no reply but he scratched again, eyes wide and beseeching. He hated how pathetic this body made him. His tail was hard to control, flicking around without his permission, and he found himself glaring at it from the corner of his eye as he waited for his siblings to open the door for him.

It took several minutes of silence for Marik to realise that Ishizu and Odion were not coming back.

His small mouth fell open, pink tongue hanging out between his lips as he panted, the heat from the midday sun overbearing. His fur felt heavy, weighing down his back. He had to find shade. The slight overhang from his house was nowhere near enough protection, the very air itself feeling alive with electric heat, so Marik reluctantly stood and moved away from his front door. He jumped of the front step and trotted slowly down the street. His little head swung from side to side, examining the houses around, but there was nowhere here that would provide adequate shelter. He had to find somewhere cool.

Ishizu's words flitted through Marik's skull as he wandered aimlessly. _Come back once you have found what you seek._ What was that even supposed to mean? What was he supposed to be seeking? Yes, Ishizu knew now of his guilt and betrayal, but there was no way he could fix that. Bakura would have nothing to do with him – in fact, Marik strongly suspected that the Ring spirit would murder him if he even came close – but there was no point in even thinking about it because he had no idea where Bakura was. Marik's eyes closed a little at that thought. If he could just see Bakura once more, to apologise and explain himself, then Marik thought he would be ok. He wasn't expecting forgiveness, but he at least wanted the chance to tell Bakura _why_ he had betrayed him.

"Hey, mama, look! It's a kitty cat!"

The voice of a female child floated through the acrid, burning air. Pattering footsteps sounded and suddenly a young, black-haired girl was crouching in front of Marik, holding out two pudgy hands and grabbing at his fur. "Hey, little kitty!"

Marik yelped and dodged her grabbing hands, feeling stickiness latch onto his fur where she had touched him. The small child grabbed for him again but Marik shot between her legs, ignoring her startled exclamations as he tumbled away, tripping over his own feet. A hiss escaped him. He could hear footsteps following behind him so he dodged into an alley, scrunching his small body up into the shadows so that he could not be seen. He curled up in a ball, twisting his head around as he licked angrily at the spot the girl had touched him, cleaning all trace of her with his rough tongue. He licked his front paw, giving his face a quick wash. He couldn't stand this for much longer – he would definitely have to find somewhere cool to shelter. Somewhere away from small, dirty children.

Once he was absolutely sure his brown fur was completely clean again, Marik stood back up and wobbled his way to the other end of the alley. The sun was roaring down, beating with furious heat at his back, and Marik could feel his body growing unbearably hot under all the unexpected fur. He struggled for breath. The dust from the floor made him sneeze, his violet eyes watering and half-closed to protect them from the bright light.

As he reached the end of the alley, Marik's ears pricked up when he realised where he was. This was the road that led to the museum, where his sister worked. It was a vast, cool building, with many little pockets a small cat could hide in. Perfect shelter from the sun. Marik's eyes brightened a little at that thought.

With renewed purpose to his steps, Marik trotted on down the road, following the familiar path to the museum until it loomed high above him, its pillars throwing long shadows across the sandy floor. Marik climbed the stone steps up to the vast entrance hall in record time, the hot ground almost burning his sensitive paws, until he was soon shaded again inside the museum's familiar atrium. He trotted into the building, relishing its coolness and all the wonderful smells that swam through the sweet air. It was quiet, hardly crowded at all, only a few people examining the various exhibits.

Marik ignored everyone, sticking to the shadows. His small, willowy body slunk along the edges of the room, keeping out of sight, and he flitted straight to the room he knew best; the Ancient Egyptian exhibit. It was a huge, cavernous space filled with ancient stone tablets, glinting gold treasures recovered from some of the greatest Pyramids, and various bits and pieces of memorabilia recovered from the threatening traps that littered all the tombs of the Pharaohs. Marik felt a small shiver of fear run alone the length of his spine at the remembered darkness of the tomb he had grown up in.

The room of the Ancient Egypt exhibit was one of the least crowded in the whole museum. It was easy for Marik to slink along one of the walls and tuck himself behind one of the glass cabinets encasing some glimmering gold, his small brown body easily concealed from sight. He curled himself up in a small ball, enjoying the cool air and the various must scents that wafted through his nostrils. He sniffed the air curiously. His ears twitched, listening to the footsteps and muffled conversations of the few people examining the exhibits. Marik's paws were tucked comfortably under his body as he settled against the glass cabinet, his eyes sliding closed as small purrs shook his body again. It was wonderfully cool in here and he could feel sleep pulling at him. A yawn stretched his mouth wide and before he knew what was happening he was asleep.

...

Marik wasn't sure what woke him a couple of hours later. The museum was even quieter than it had been when it fell asleep, the Ancient Egypt exhibit completely deserted, and only a few murmured conversations drifted to Marik's ears from the corridor.

Marik yawned and stood, stretching his front paws out in front of him and arching his back. His tail swished back and forth, throwing him off-balance and sending him tumbling forwards, sprawling haphazardly onto his chest with his front paws splayed out in front of him. He let out a disgruntled meow. The gold collar sat heavily around his neck, reminding him of the gold he usually wore there when he was a human. A small, angry hiss escaped his lips – he would have to find Ishizu and make her turn him back into his original form. He hated how big the world felt, how small and insignificant being a cat made him feel.

_Come back once you have found what you seek._

What use was that? Marik couldn't find what he sought. He wanted to find Bakura again, to apologise and make the white-haired spirit see that Marik hadn't _wanted_ to betray him. Anger rippled through his body and another hiss escaped his lips, sounding as a disgruntled mew. Marik's claws dug into the paved flagstones of the museum, his furry body trembling as he pushed himself upright again. He hated this whole situation. He was angry at Bakura for making him feel so much guilt – really, Marik shouldn't care. He had got what he wanted, after all – he had returned to his body. Only now Ishizu had taken it away from him again and he had ended up as a damn cat.

As Marik stood, shaking, his tail gave a particularly violent swish and he ended up overbalancing again. With a furious meow, Marik tumbled across the floor with sharpened violet eyes and edgy claws extended, spinning in a circle and viciously attacking his own tail. The infernal thing kept getting in his way and knocking him over. It moved without his control, swishing and swiping across the floor, and Marik tumbled head over heels as he chased his own tail, nipping and clawing and yowling at it in a furious ball of brown energy.

Still hissing, Marik knocked against the glass case he had been sheltering behind, tumbling head-over-heels across the flagstone floor as he battled with himself. He was so engrossed in frustration that he didn't notice the other person who had entered this room. Marik continued to tumble across the floor, fighting and screeching and batting at his tail until he stumbled head-on into a pair of legs that sent him rolling all across the ground, eliciting a startled grunt from the person he had just run into. Marik yelped, his fur standing on end as he jumped about a mile in the air before scampering away again, diving back behind the glass exhibit.

A low chuckle rang through the air.

Marik froze. His eyes went wide, his breathing still ragged as he pressed his small body against the glass case. That noise was impossibly familiar. _Impossible..._

"How did a cat get in the museum?" That cool voice wafted through the air again, making Marik jump. There was no way he could mistake that tone. Excitement suddenly shuddered through Marik's body, mixing with the tiniest amount of fear, and Marik moved on instinct. His little form slunk around the glass case, just his head peeking around the corner. He stared in utter amazement at the person, the _impossible_ person standing in front of him.

Bakura stood in the centre of the room, rubbing at his leg where Marik had run into him, familiar smirk at his lips.

Brown eyes seared straight into Marik, one quizzical white brow arched. Long white locks, just as wild as Marik remembered, flowed down Bakura's back, those same two stubborn tufts sticking straight up, distinguishing the Ring spirit from his host. Bakura crouched, his head tilted quizzically, and extended one hand. "Come here, cat."

Marik's ears perked up. His gold collar glistened, his eyes wide in shock and amazement, remaining fixated on Bakura. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Bakura looked exactly the same as he had when Marik knew him, from the old faded jeans to the smirk that decorated his lips. The only difference was that he had switched his blue coat for a black one. Marik thought the darker colour suited him much better.

Blinking, his ears twitching, Marik cautiously edged around the glass case before he threw himself straight at Bakura. Acting purely on instinct, Marik threw himself into Bakura's lap and rubbed his head furiously against Bakura's chest, loud purrs rumbling from his throat. His brown fur sleeked back, eyes half-closing in pleasure as he breathed in the familiar scent; every single one of his heightened senses was screaming at Marik that this was definitely Bakura.

A slightly startled grunt escaped Bakura's lips. Cold pale fingers latched onto Marik's body, picking him up by the scruff of his neck and holding him at Bakura's eye level. Marik's four paws kicked wildly, searching for some solid ground as Bakura swiftly stood. The world swung dizzily.

Bakura arched a brow. "What on earth is a cat doing in here?" He pursed his lips, giving Marik a small shake. Marik yowled. _Watch it, you idiot!_

Bakura released a low chuckle. He lifted his free hand, thoughtfully fingering the gold collar around Marik's neck. "You must have a rich owner. I wonder if I can get this collar off you..."

Marik hissed, snapping his jaws at Bakura's fingers. His claws extended, one paw swiping angrily at Bakura's hand, furious meows shaking his small furry body. _You even try and steal my gold, Spirit, and I will chew off your fingers._

Bakura quickly retracted his hand. He eyed Marik's trembling body with detached curiousity, though one corner of his mouth was still pulled up in that infuriating smirk, his brown eyes dark and as unreadable as ever. "Feisty."

_I'll show you frigging feisty._ Marik snarled, but again it only sounded as a pathetic mewl. His violet eyes narrowed, glinting dangerously (he hoped).

Bakura continued to eye him coolly, features expressionless, until footsteps sounded from somewhere behind him. Swiftly, too swiftly for Marik to protest, Bakura stuffed the small brown cat into his large coat pocket as he spun casually around. Marik yowled, scratching at the black cloth suddenly surrounding him. The scent of Bakura was everywhere, almost overpowering in its intensity, and yet Marik found himself full of an ecstatic excitement at seeing his once-partner again. His whole body rippled, shuddering with happiness and expectation. Best of all, Bakura didn't know who he was, so there was no chance that he would kick Marik out, as Marik was sure he would if Bakura knew that he was carrying the man who betrayed him in his pocket. For the first time, Marik found himself giving silent thanks to his sister for turning him into a cat.

Bakura's voice rumbled through the air, but the thick fabric of his coat pocket was too dense for Marik to make out the words. He _definitely _noticed, however, when Bakura started walking. The coat pocket that Marik had been shoved into was right by Bakura's leg, and with his every step Marik was bumped and jostled around, his bones rattling uncomfortably. Marik yowled loudly.

"Shut up, cat," Bakura's voice growled quietly. "Or I'll drown you in a lake."

Marik's eyes widened before narrowing. He hissed. Oh, Bakura would come to regret talking to him like that. The fur along Marik's spine lifted, his hackles rising with every bumpy step, the blackness of the coat pocket absolute and stifling around him. He hissed, resigning himself to an uncomfortable journey until Bakura got to wherever he was taking them.

A thought made a shiver of fear run down Marik's spine. How on earth was he going to find his way home?

Before he could panic too much about that, the sound of a door swinging open rang through the air, followed by a slam. Bakura took a few more steps until a pale hand dove back into his pocket, pulling out the trembling form of Marik. Marik blinked furiously in the sudden harsh light.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "What a pathetic creature." Carelessly, he tossed Marik onto the floor, turning away. Marik squeaked, a very undignified cry slipping through his lips as he landed awkwardly on the floor, four paws splayed out. He gave himself a shake before sitting, cleaning his face whilst taking several surreptitious glances at his new surroundings.

They appeared to be in a small flat. Marik was seated on a threadbare carpet in the middle of a small, serviceable living room, right by a wobbly-looking coffee table. A simple sofa sat on one side, a TV set on the other. Half-eaten remnants of some dinner or other lay sprawled across the coffee table, making Marik wrinkle his nose at the smell. His tail swished irritably.

A small noise by the door made Marik jump a mile in the air, his fur standing all on end again. His gold collar glinted as he span, wide violet eyes picking out Bakura leaning arrogantly in the doorframe. He hissed, though his fur relaxed again. Bakura snorted. "You're a jumpy little thing."

Marik's ears twitched. _You would be, too, if you didn't have a clue where you were._ Nevertheless, Marik forced himself to relax slightly, sitting back on his haunches and folding his front paws under his chest, sitting just like the Sphinx. His tail curled around his side, tucked neatly against his body.

Bakura regarded him silently for another moment before he walked over, crouching down in front of Marik. He tilted his head, pursing his pale lips slightly. "Have I seen you somewhere before?"

Marik's ears laid flat against his head. He shifted a little nervously and had to remind himself that there was no way Bakura could recognise him like this – he was a cat, for crying out loud. Still, Marik could hear his heart beating away inside his chest, pounding with fear that Bakura was about to murder him for his betrayal.

Instead, Bakura sat cross-legged and scooped Marik up into his lap.

Marik's violet eyes went wide. He mewled in surprise, claws digging into Bakura's thighs as he adjusted to his new position, small body trembling. Bakura's voice rumbled above him, low and cool and still holding the power to calm Marik almost instantly. "Hush. I'm not going to hurt you."

Marik blinked. He drew in a shaky breath, Bakura's scent heavy on his nostrils, calming him further. Bakura's hand landed gently on Marik's fur, stroking along his back gently and sending purrs resounding gently from Marik's throat, his eyes half-closing in pleasure. He stood up in Bakura's lap, brown paws lightly kneading Bakura's thighs as Marik turned in a half-circle, his cat instincts taking over completely. He arched his back up into Bakura's touch, humming happily.

Bakura didn't speak, but Marik could see the smirk playing around his lips. Marik would have smiled in response, his chest filling with warmth as purrs continued to ring through the air between them. For the first time since becoming a cat, Marik allowed himself to relax. He was back with his pale partner – yes, Bakura didn't know who he was, but for the moment Marik was ok with that. He was simply enjoying being back in the Ring spirit's company. With that in mind, Marik curled himself up in a small ball on Bakura's lap, his head tucked onto his front paws and his tail curled attractively around his furry brown body.

Bakura looked down at the small cat on his lap. His expression was unreadable, his lips drawn into a thin line, his features smooth and impassive. However, his hand didn't cease its soft strokes to Marik's back, and when purrs continued to echo between them, Bakura couldn't stop his lips twitching into a smile.

"I should have just left you in the museum." Bakura murmured, his voice surprisingly soft to Marik's ears. Slender pale fingers tangled in the fur on Marik's back, scratching lightly and eliciting more purrs. Marik's eyes closed and he relaxed, rolling onto his back in utter bliss, front paws waving. Bakura arched a brow. "What, you want me to stroke your stomach?"

Marik's only reply was to bat playfully at Bakura's fingers with his front paws. His violet eyes shone wickedly.

Bakura chuckled lowly, obediently moving his hand and scratching lightly at Marik's brown stomach. He smirked. "You can't stay here, though. I won't be here for much longer myself, so unless you want to starve you're going to have to go back to wherever you came from."

Marik would have frowned, if he wasn't a cat. As it was, he meowed questioningly, cocking his head up at Bakura.

"No use looking at me like that." Bakura sounded reflective, almost melancholic. His brown eyes seemed to look past Marik. "I can't stay here. I've got a job to do."

A job? What was Bakura talking about? Marik's ears flicked, worry gripping him, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He batted insistently at Bakura's hand again, another loud meow escaping him, although this time it was more demanding than questioning.

Bakura gazed down at him, speaking quietly. "I have to avenge them. My village. You wouldn't understand."

Marik's small body froze. Bakura had never shared his past or his motives with Marik during their brief partnership, despite the fact that Marik told Bakura everything about his own past. It had always bothered Marik a little, but he hadn't had the time to get Bakura to explain his hatred for the Pharaoh. Bakura had certainly never mentioned a village. Marik's pointy ears were pricked, his violet eyes wide as he gazed up at Bakura. He longed to be able to speak, to question Bakura until he got the whole story, but as it was he was trapped without a voice. Snarling internally, Marik made his actions as clear as he could. He stood back up in Bakura's lap, pawing insistently at his thigh and giving several small meows.

Bakura gazed back at him. With a low sigh, he pushed Marik off his lap, ignoring his startled meow, and instead drew his knees up into his chest. Bakura sighed, the sound low and full of a strange sort of longing, his arms folding across his knees as he rested his chin atop them. He glanced down at Marik. "I lost my village. Well, they were murdered, all of them. When I was a child, far too long ago for a cat like you to have an inkling of."

Marik blinked, giving a startled meow. He sat back on his haunches, gazing up at Bakura in wonder. He knew that the Spirit was at least three thousand years old, born in the time of the nameless Pharaoh when the pyramids were still young. But he had had no idea that Bakura had lost his whole village.

Bakura nodded heavily. "And the man responsible for their deaths still lives. That's why I have to go – the time for his destruction is almost here."

Marik's eyes widened.

"I came close before," Bakura murmured, his tone turning self-intrusive. "Well, I've come close a few times, but this more than the others. I had a partner, you see – though that was an alien enough thought in itself."

Marik froze. Could ... could Bakura be talking about him? As far as Marik knew, Bakura had never worked with anyone before himself, but he was far from knowing everything about his once-partner. His ears twitched, flicking forwards, and Marik couldn't stop himself from moving closer.

Bakura glanced down at him. He shifted a little, making room for Marik between his legs as another heavy sigh slipped through his lips. Bakura rested one elbow on his knee, his chin in his palm. "Yes, I worked with someone. An Egyptian, he was. Someone who hated the Pharaoh just as much as I did, and with almost as good reason."

Marik's heart was beating painfully loud.

Bakura's expression shifted. His brown eyes grew impossibly dark, tone turning heavier and slicked with something that Marik didn't recognise. "But he betrayed me and left me alone in the darkness. I'll kill him if ever I see him again."

Bakura's words were completely unforgiving and utterly chilling. Cold slithered through Marik's veins and, despite himself, he edged a step back. The movement caused him to overbalance again and he landed heavily on his backside, yelping when his tail got trapped beneath him. He jumped upright again, rocketing forwards and accidentally running straight into Bakura's stomach.

Another low chuckle slid through the air, though it was less amused this time. Bakura's free hand reached down, gently stroking along Marik's back. "You act like a little kitten. I think you must be younger than you look."

Marik blinked. He tilted his head up to meet Bakura's gaze, another shiver wracking through him at the darkness still hidden in Bakura's brown eyes. There was an intense pain hidden in their depths.

Bakura sighed. He moved his hand around to Marik's cheek, scratching lightly, and despite himself Marik started to purr again. He sat back, eyes closing in pleasure, and tilted his head into Bakura's hand in order to seek more touch.

"I used to know a cat like you," Bakura murmured thoughtfully. "When I thieved in the markets. He was brown, too, and had just the same colouring as you. And he was clumsy."

_Watch who you're calling clumsy,_ Marik snapped, although he didn't open his eyes. He was enjoying Bakura's touches far too much.

"I fed him when I could, not that I had much," Bakura continued. "I got better at stealing, though. I was a tomb robber, you know."

Despite himself, Marik was impressed. He opened his eyes enough to shoot Bakura a surprised stare – the Pharaoh's tombs were notoriously difficult to steal from, never mind the horrific punishments that tomb robbers were subjected to if they were caught. Bakura must have been an incredibly skilled thief. _Oh, but he still is_, Marik reminded himself wryly. _I can hardly count the number of times Bakura got hold of my things._

Bakura snorted quietly. "Not that it did me much good. I still failed. I fought so hard to avenge my family – made it into the Palace and stood before the Pharaoh himself – but I still failed. My people's spirits are still trapped in the Millennium Items. Three thousand years trapped in a piece of metal – can you imagine it?"

Marik tensed. So _that_ was why Bakura was seeking the Items. No wonder he got so furious when other people owned them – they were quite literally the only remains of his family that he had left. Marik shivered. Imagine being trapped without a body for three thousand years...

Bakura scoffed. "Of course not. You're a cat."

_I can,_ Marik found himself thinking fiercely, his violet eyes bright and searing as he gazed up at Bakura. _I can imagine. I lost my body too, if only for a short time, and that was utterly unbearable._

Bakura's expression changed. He shifted a little, peering at Marik with an intense gaze, his lips pursing and brows furrowing. Marik moved a little closer, placing both his front paws on Bakura's stomach and arching up. He gave Bakura's neck a small lick; the most comfort he could provide in his current form.

To Marik's surprise, Bakura slumped. His white hair drifted down around his face, hiding his expression as his head dropped down towards his knees. "I have failed them all. My whole family. I had a younger sister, you know, and I watched her die and did nothing..."

Marik was utterly shocked when Bakura's voice broke. He gazed up, watching in amazement as Bakura's eyes squeezed shut and a tear – an actual _tear_ – rolled down his borrowed pale cheek. Marik had never thought Bakura capable of human emotion. The Spirit had always seemed so dark and aloof, tantalisingly dramatic but with hints of a total darkness that Marik couldn't fully understand.

Now, he was beginning to see through Bakura's hard lines of defence.

No wonder Bakura was so focused, when the lives of his family depended on his success. No wonder he held such hatred for the Pharaoh, when the man was responsible for the slaughter and imprisonment of his entire village.

Another tear ran down Bakura's cheek and Marik once again acted on instinct. He stepped forwards, pressing his small furry body against Bakura's chest and purring gently, nuzzling him. Bakura made no move, however, so Marik leaned up again and gave his neck another link. Marik moved his front paws to the ends of Bakura's hair, lightly batting at the long white strands and gently playing with them. He kept his claws safely concealed behind their soft pads.

Bakura smiled slightly. He bowed his head, allowing more of his hair to fall over his shoulders, giving Marik more room to play. One slender pale hand lightly caressed the top of Marik's head. "Well, I'm glad someone's having fun."

Marik looked back into Bakura's eyes and saw that their brown depths still glistened with unshed tears. Lightly, Marik pressed himself up against Bakura's chest, rubbing against him affectionately and his whole body trembling with purrs. How he wished he had arms to wrap around Bakura, to hug him and comfort him properly...

Another tear landed in Marik's brown fur.

The world changed around him. A strange sensation rippled through his body, his four legs extending and growing, his chest lifting and extending, his head growing. It was over in an instant. Marik blinked, shaking his head and pressing one palm to his forehead, groaning a little at the pounding headache that was growing just behind his left temple. He growled. "I am going to kill Ishizu."

Resounding silence met his ears.

Marik moved, drawing his knees up into his chest, but he froze when he realised _he had knees._ He started, quickly lifting both his hands in front of his face, turning them over with a shocked expression when he saw four fingers and a thumb protruding from each one. He glanced down at himself and was thrilled to see his own familiar human body back again, complete with tight black trousers and black leather vest. "Oh, thank the Gods for that!"

The silence turned threatening.

Marik very quickly remembered where he was. He shot to his feet, swaying, and turned his intense violet gaze on Bakura, who was still sat in the middle of the floor.

Furious brown eyes looked back at him.

Marik backed up quickly, his hands held up in the surrender position. "I can explain everything..."

"Then you'd better damn well _start talking,_" Bakura's deep voice growled, and there was absolutely no hint of the vulnerable tone it had so recently held, "Or I am going to murder you where you stand, _Ishtar_."

Marik froze. His chest rose and fell raggedly, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he could speak. "Ishizu turned me into a cat and told me I had to face my demons and not to come back until I found what I sought, so I was just wandering around but it was really too hot to be out in the middle of the day so I went to the museum and then you turned up, and you picked me up and brought me back here and then you started talking..."

Bakura was on his feet in seconds. Marik was in the middle of talking when a cold pale body slammed into his, forcing him back against the wall as one slender, strong hand wrapped around his throat.

Marik choked out a gasp.

"I meant," Bakura growled, his face right next to Marik's, "Start talking about _why the hell_ you betrayed me."

Marik's eyes widened. He tried to speak around the hand restricting his windpipe, choking, but he couldn't get enough air into his lungs to form words. Instead, he only managed a strange sort of choke.

Bakura snarled. "I gave you a chance. Now I'm going to murder you."

The fingers tightened around Marik's throat and he gasped, kicking feebly at the carpet. Spots began to dance in his vision. Marik growled, narrowing his eyes as he sent Bakura a glittering stare, trying to communicate that he could explain everything, that he had a good reason.

Bakura's hand disappeared from his throat and Marik collapsed. He gasped, dragging painful lungfuls of air into his chest, coughing and retching as he tried to gather himself enough to speak. When he managed to sit up, Bakura was still glaring at him.

"I can explain." Marik's voice was raspier than normal, much to his irritation. He coughed again before continuing. "I didn't have a choice."

Bakura's foot tapped impatiently.

Marik settled more comfortably on the floor, resting his back against the wall and almost slipping as he readjusted to being back in human form. "I was dragged out of the Shadow Realm by my dark half to take part in his duel against the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh performed some trick or other and made us switch bodies. My only choice at that point was let the Pharaoh win or condemn the world to my darkness – so naturally, I let the Pharaoh win."

Bakura's nostrils flared. "Better that you had let the world die."

Marik closed his eyes. He rested his head against the wall, exhaustion dropping through his limbs. "If I had, we would both have died, along with everyone else in the world."

Bakura snarled.

"Believe me," Marik continued, opening his eyes again to meet Bakura's glare, "If I could have, I would have kept your Ring and given it back to you once I was away from the damn Pharaoh. But he and his stupid friends went back to Domino."

"And you stayed in Egypt, doing your job like a good little boy," Bakura sneered in response.

Marik actually smirked. "Nope. Actually, I've been moping in my room ever since Battle City, because I hated myself for betraying you."

Bakura stopped short.

It amazed Marik, how easy the words were to say, even with Bakura stood right in front of him. Finally, all the repressed emotions he had held since Battle City were able to find voice, finally releasing themselves from the part of his heart that he kept locked away. Marik stared straight at Bakura and explained everything. "I hated how the Pharaoh made me betray you. I hated how I had to give him everything he wanted. I hated how my siblings dragged me back here. I hated how I left you trapped in the shadows. I hated how I would never get to apologise to you. I hated how I would never get to tell you how sorry I was. I hated how I could never tell you how much our partnership meant to me."

Bakura blinked. For the first time ever, Marik saw something like surprise cross Bakura's cold hard features, his brown eyes widening just the tiniest amount.

Marik didn't look away. "And now, I understand your motives. You have even more reason to hate the Pharaoh than I do, and I never thought I'd say that to anyone."

Bakura flinched, but Marik didn't give him time to respond, instead bulldozing on. "But I am glad that you remember our partnership. And I don't blame you for wanting to murder me. I'm not going to let you, but I don't blame you for wanting to."

"You couldn't stop me," Bakura growled.

Marik shook his head, his bright violet gaze pinning Bakura in place. "I can. All I have to do is tell you that I love you."

Bakura went absolutely still.

"I've loved you for a long time," Marik continued thoughtfully. "Since you first agreed to work with me. Since you tried to save me from my dark half, even though you failed. And especially since I betrayed you."

"You don't betray the ones you love." Bakura's voice sounded strained, to Marik's pleasure.

Marik glanced over at him. "I already told you I had no choice."

Bakura's jaw clicked.

Marik held his gaze, standing slowly on shaky legs and extending a hand towards Bakura. "I've loved you even more since you told me about your past. Your whole village?"

Bakura snarled, a feral, wild sound. "I never told you that. You don't know anything about that."

"Bakura, in case you hadn't noticed, I was the cat," Marik chuckled. His eyes were sincere, calmer than they had been in months. "I understand that now, too. Ishizu said I had to be in the right form to face my demons. I had to find you as a cat – if I had been human, you would have recognised me straight away and murdered me on sight. As it was, I had the time to hear your story, and explain my own."

Bakura glared.

"I want to help you." Marik blurted the words out, tilting his head as he kept one hand outstretched towards Bakura. "I know you're still fighting the Pharaoh, and I want to help."

"You can't," Bakura spat. His arms were stubbornly folded over his chest, although Marik liked to think that his stance was slightly softer than normal, a slightly vulnerable glint in his brown eyes.

Marik kept his tone even. "I can. I'm a tombkeeper, Bakura. It's my job to return the Pharaoh's spirit to the afterlife, and I swear to you, I will not make his passing easy. Not now I know what he did to your people."

Bakura's limbs loosened. His eyes closed, body slumping forwards slightly, shoulders rounding and chest collapsing. "You weren't supposed to know about that."

Marik acted on instinct. He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Bakura's shoulders and cradling the pale spirit against his chest, rocking him gently. Marik spoke quietly, words going straight to Bakura's ear. "I swear to you, the Pharaoh will not rest easy."

Bakura relaxed, micro-inch by micro-inch, in Marik's hold. To Marik's surprise, pale hands latched onto his shoulders, digging in tightly and probably leaving marks. When Marik glanced at Bakura, he found an intense brown gaze searing straight into him.

Bakura smirked, and the expression was wonderfully familiar. "Alright then, Marik Ishtar. You have yourself a deal."


End file.
